Taking a cab to Merriweather Towers is expensive, but in my silver dress, I am afraid to take the subway. I’m afraid I might get harassed. So I splurge on the taxicab ride. On the way home, Jeff will be with me, so I won’t have to worry about anyone bothering me.
I am wearing a silver wrap around my shoulders. Not because I am cold, but because Jeff doesn’t like it when I show too much skin. As I get out of the cab, paying the driver, and tucking my handbag under my arm, I am reminded of the Christmas party I attended here last December. I had worn a red dress I’d bought just for the occasion. I remembered thinking I looked pretty nice, but Jeff was out of sorts all night because he did not like the amount of cleavage I was showing. It didn’t seem like a lot to me. In comparison to some of the other women at the party, it was practically nothing, but we did not have a very good time at the party because he was so angry all night long.
I hope he doesn’t mind this dress. He asked me to wear it, after all. The bodice has thin straps, and it shows the tops of my breasts, almost as much as the red dress, but I brought the shawl, just in case.
I am nervous walking into the building. I have sent Jeff a few texts to keep him apprised of my location, but he has not answered any of them. I send him another one, letting him know I’ve arrived. I don’t know where to go once I walk inside. I look around and listen for the sounds of a party, but it’s a large building, and I don’t hear anything.
I see a man behind the counter. He’s on the phone, so I walk over and wait for him to finish. He glances at me and then does a double-take, hanging up the phone quickly. “Yes, miss?” he says, looking below my neck and not in my eyes. I pull the shawl around me a little better. “How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for the party for Merriweather and Associates,” I explain. “My husband is waiting for me there, but I can’t get him to answer my texts.”
“What’s the name?” he asks me.
I am already nervous, and the question confuses me. Does he want to know my name or my husbands? I say, “Thompson,” and he nods, checking a list.
“Julia?” he asks me.
“Yes, that’s me,” I tell him with a smile.
“Sure, sure. Go on up to the thirty-fifth floor,” he says. “That’s where the party is happening.”
“Thank you.” I smile warmly at him and then head to the elevator, pushing the correct button and waiting for the doors to close.
I wonder why I am the only one arriving right now. Jeff said to be here at 7:00, and it’s only five past. Since most people don’t want to be early or exactly on time, I was assuming a lot of people would be getting here at the same time as me, but that isn’t the case, so I am puzzled.
When the doors open at the thirty-fifth floor, it is clear to me that the party has started before 7:00. I am confused and step out into the full swing of people drinking, talking, even some dancing. Trays of drinks and snacks are coming by on the hands of waiters and waitresses dressed in matching uniforms. I look around for Jeff but don’t see him anywhere. I don’t know many other people who work in his office because he hasn’t introduced me to any of them. I look at faces, trying to determine if I recognize any of them, but I don’t.
Until my eyes land on the striking face of a man just a few years older than me, with piercing blue eyes and dark hair. I recognize him immediately and have to look away. Braxton Merriweather, the Chief Executive Officer of Jeff’s company, one of the richest men in the world and the most eligible bachelor in our city, which is saying something. My face turns red just looking at him, he’s so handsome. To think, he had been looking at me! Of course, that’s probably because I am lost and look it.
I spin around a few more times, praying I can find Jeff soon. I am about to give up and pull my phone out one more time when I see my husband leaning against a wall with a drink in his hand, talking to a couple of other guys. They are laughing and carrying on, and it’s clear he’s had lots of drinks. I am wondering what time the party actually started and why he didn’t want me to be there on time.
Since I will not be able to ask him any of those questions without making him angry, and I definitely don’t want to make him angry, I swallow my agitation down and make my way across the room to him, hoping he is in a good mood. I don’t like it when Jeff is upset. It never ends well for me.
She was late. She’d missed the dinner I’d provided for my work associates and their guests. I wonder why she hadn’t arrived on time like everyone else, but then, when I see her step through the door, frazzled, looking anxiously around for her husband, who is standing across the room, leaning against the wall, talking to some of the other people from our team who do not perform well, I understand that Thompson probably didn’t even invite her to the dinner.She rushes over to him, and he stands up straight, looking annoyed, like she’s interrupted some important work discussion. I pretend to listen to the woman standing next to me, one of the presidents of the marketing department who is talking about an account I could care less about, but my eyes are on her, the beautiful woman who is unfortunately attached to that sleaze, Jeff Thompson.I watch as they step away from the others, as Jeff grabs her elbow and pulls her close, a little too violently for my liking. I see her face and know
Braxton Merriweather is standing in front of me--and he knew my name. I can hardly believe my ears. I blink at him a few times, wondering why it is he knows who I am, why it is he’s come to speak to me.I know that Jeff was angry when I arrived. That wasn’t his fault, though. That was my fault. I was out of sorts, and he had every right to be cross with me. Still, people who didn’t understand the situation might think that was Jeff’s fault, that he was being too hard on me.I want to ask Mr. Merriweather how he knows who I am, but I am too shy to pose the question. Instead, I just stand there, staring at him, trying to process the situation. He is absolutely the best looking man I’ve ever seen in real life and probably even more handsome than most of the guys I’ve seen on TV or the movies. He is also rich beyond comprehension.Before I can say anything in response, Braxton asks, “Have you eaten any dinner yet?”I wrinkle my forehead at the question. It seems like such a strange thing
Julia Thompson is breathtaking, and I can’t keep my eyes off of her. I know I need to be more discreet. Staring at her as she sits there nervously on the sofa in the private suite I maintain right off of the main ballroom in my apartment complex, I want to forget that I have a few hundred guests just on the other side of the soundproof door, including her husband. I want to tell Cindy not to bother with the steak, that I’ll give Julia everything that she needs.I can’t do that, though. Not yet anyway. It would be immoral of me to put moves on this married woman--unless, of course, her husband approves it—and so does she. I have been thinking of what I can do to get Jeff Thompson to realize he is not worthy of his wife, but he is such an arrogant asshole, I think he’s somehow gotten the impression he is too good for her. He is about to be reminded that he is nothing, that he is an insignificant peon and that his entire career exists only because I have not lowered my thumb and squashed
Jeff Thompson is standing with a group of low-level workers from his department, laughing, their drinks nearly empty and not for the first time from what I can tell. They are certainly inebriated. I stand back and study them for a while, planning how to say what I need to say to Thompson without losing my cool. Standing this far away from him, looking at him with my expensive liquor in his hand, wearing off-brand shoes and a suit that he’s worn nearly every day since he started working for me, just changing out the shirt under the jacket, I can’t help but wonder what he does with all of the money I pay him. He certainly doesn’t spend it on his wife. But then, I’m pretty sure I already know. It is my understanding that he has a pretty serious addiction to pornography. That can get costly, once a person is entangled. I can’t help but wonder if perhaps he is also paying for sex.Why he would do that when his wife is the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, I can’t say, but he has
I am not very hungry, even though the steak and potatoes Cindy has kindly brought to me taste wonderful. I make myself take a few bites as she sits on the sofa near me, making casual conversation. She has asked me about when I met Jeff and where we moved here from, and I have answered her between bites. Now, after four or five pieces of steak, I am nearing my limit. I’m nervous, and it’s difficult to eat something so heavy on a jittery stomach.“Mr. Merriweather was very kind to provide dinner for me,” I say, thinking it might be time to set my fork aside. I look her in the eyes to see if she understands what I am getting at.“He is very thoughtful,” she agrees. “Don’t feel obligated to eat all of it, though. If you’re finished, I’ll have it taken away.”“Do you mind?” It seems so strange to me to have someone waiting on me. I’m not used to it at all. I can’t remember the last time anyone did anything for me.“Not at all,” she says with a smile. Cindy stands and goes to the door she’d
“Just get in the car, and don’t say a word,” Jeff tells me as we exit Merriweather Towers. He has me by the arm, and even though he’s not quite squeezing tightly enough to hurt me, it isn’t comfortable either.I’m not exactly sure why he’s mad at me, though I can think of several reasons. I didn’t stay outside as he had ordered me to. I had interacted with Cindy and her friends as she’d taken me around the party. Though I had tried to keep to myself and be as quiet as possible, I had been forced to greet people, to shake their hands and be polite. I know Jeff doesn’t like it when I touch men, even to shake their hands, but I couldn’t be rude and ignore an outstretched hand, could I? Jeff doesn’t like it when I am rude either.In the taxi, he tells the driver our address and mumbles under his breath about how this will cost a fortune. I feel bad. I know Merriweather doesn’t pay as much as a person would think, which I’ve always thought was odd considering the lavish parties Mr. Merriwe
I hear Jeff’s alarm go off, but it only partially wakes me up. I’m so tired from being out late last night. And from the argument. When we got home, Jeff was so drunk…. He screamed at me for a long time, leaving me in tears. He passed out, and I cried myself to sleep. Despite his anger at me the night before, and the fact that he is clearly hung over, he curses at his phone, turns off the alarm, and promptly pulls his dick out of his briefs.I know the routine. It is the same every morning. I push the blankets off and pull my panties off as he clumsily climbs on top of me. He pushes my nightgown up to my collar bone and sucks hard on my left nipple until it hurts as he presses inside of me. I find a spot on the ceiling to stare at and move my hips a little because he wants me to. I put my hands on his back. He’ll be done soon enough.It takes a little longer this time than normal because Jeff still has alcohol in his system. His dick is small anyway, but when he is drunk or hungover,
Springer followed Jeff and Julia Thompson home last night to report on how he was treating his wife. I had him hang around outside of their apartment. He could hear Jeff screaming at her for quite some time in his drunken slur, and he thought he heard him strike her as well. When I sent him back this morning to collect Jeff, it was mostly because I wanted to see if there was evidence of that strike. In the car on the way to work, Springer calls me and tells me he has seen a red mark across Julia’s cheek.I am furious.Waiting in my office, I tell Cindy not to let anyone in to see me. I wanted to speak to Thompson first thing in the morning, but even though I have sent a car to bring him to work so that he doesn’t have to fool with public transportation, he is running behind.Pacing back and forth in front of my desk, I try to get a hold of myself. I have practiced what I intend to say to him several times, but I am still worried about how it may come out. Thompson is an asshole, and t